Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

REVISED and EDITED

Fate's Paths-Chap2-Emotional Wreck-

"Are you going to be alright?"

Alenor made no attempt to pull away from the arm that draped itself across her shoulders and tried to draw her into an embrace. She continued to stare blankly at the pages of book that were resting on her lap. The words were swimming across the page, blurring into an intelligible mess. It didn't matter though; she had ceased trying to read a long time ago. She jumped involuntarily in surprise, as a hand moved into sight, and gently closed the book over her fingers, pulling it away, before setting it next to her on the settee.

"Not quite the happy news you were expecting was it Tinúviel?"

"Did you know about my heritage?" Alenor whispered brokenly, glancing up at Elrohir, searching his grey eyes for the answer. Her eyes were the mirror of her despair. "Did you know how tainted I am?"

"It does not matter, whether I knew or not," he hushed her, easing a lock of knotted hair behind her ear. His eyes shone with nothing but love and compassion toward her. "The truth or the knowledge of the past does not change the fact that you will always be my little sister."

A sob clawed at Alenor's throat, urging to be released. She ducked her head, wrapping her arms around herself, as tears began to course down her face in rolling streams. "Why was my Naneth killed Elrohir? What could have possibly been the reason that someone had such hatred against her? Why do I have to be descended from the people who wanted to destroy the Valar and Valinor?" her voice had escalated until it reached an ear-piercing shrill tone. Elrohir was visibly wincing, his sensitive ears more easily afflicted by the pitch. "Why can't I remember what happened that night!"

"Tinúviel, Tinúviel," Elrohir soothed, pulling her back into his arms, muffling her voice with his shirt. "Little Nightingale. Don't cry, one day it will all come back to you and everything will be all right."

"You've been saying that for the past thirteen years muindor and I still can't remember!" Alenor screamed her voice effectively, and much gratefully softened by the shirt. "What evil curse decided that I had to be an innocent and fragile three year old when it happened? Why couldn't I have been older? If I had been older I would have known how to protect her, to save her! I would have understood what was happening to us! I could have changed everything that had happened. She would still be here with me! I wouldn't be so alone!"

Elrohir did not reply, but instead cradled her gently, running his fingers through her hair, his skillful finger dispatching the knotted mass that piled atop her head. Wordlessly, Alenor's arms circled about her foster-brother in an instinctive response, drawing him closer, wanting the protection he offered her, wanting to feel loved.

After a long silence, Alenor pulled away, drying her eyes with her fingers, staring at Elrohir, her vision blurring with the remnants of tears. "Thank you...for holding me like that," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks get hot. "I shouldn't have cried like an over spoiled two-year old."

"Nonsense," Elrohir said, a smile touching his face. "But we need to get you out of this stuffy old building and do something fun for a change, but not swimming, I'm wet as it is."

"What else would you consider fun then?" Alenor grumbled, her mood plummeting again, the last thing she felt like was going out to face Rivendell. The feeling that she was tainted because of her past clung like a stubborn bur to her skin.'

"Well...I could find Glorfindel and you could pester him to death or give him a few extra grey hairs. I know that's one of your favorite past-times. Or should I drag Erestor up from some dusty old book instead?"

Alenor smiled faintly, but it refused to stay in place and slid away as fast as it had come. "Not today."

"Very well then, I'll find Elladan and we'll go for a picnic."

"Not today."

Elrohir leaned back frowning, not liking the monotone responses he was getting. "Well you're not being much of much help here Tinúviel."

"Please, don't call me by that name," Alenor whispered, standing up brusquely, turning sharply away from her brother. She could feel Elrohir's worried gaze following her every movement, eyes narrowed in a concerned fashion. It was a disconcerting feeling.

"You have never denied me and Elladan the right to call you by your nickname before"

"Well now I am denying you that right!" Alenor snapped spinning around, clutching her hands into fists at her side. She saw her brother recoil at the harsh anger she directed toward him, but refused to let the guilt touch her. "I don't want to do anything fun! I just want to stay here and die!" she screamed the last part, her voice taking on the hysterical pitch once again. Fuming, she stormed past him into her bedroom proper, slamming the door shut, with a rattling bang that shook the entire doorframe.

For a moment she wavered on the threshold as guilt overcame her in a rush. The sudden uncertainty of whether she should turn back and apologize to Elrohir, or jump off the balcony and end the despair, swamped her. In the end, torn, she threw herself onto her bed, clutching a pillow to her face, as the tears pushed past the floodgate for the second time that evening. I can't believe I ever wanted to know who I was!

For a long moment after Alenor's abrupt departure, Elrohir remained motionless on the settee, hearing the sounds of Alenor's muffled sobs. For a moment he hesitated, unsure if he should try to soothe his sister again or whether to leave her to her peace. Inside, he knew that the worst thing he could do was to go intrude upon her space, in the hopes of comforting her. Alenor's emotions were too closely knitted together for her to face anyone.

Sighing in despair Elrohir hung his head, raking his fingers through his dark hair. Ai Alenor, you have to let people in sometimes! You can't keep hiding behind that stone fortress of yours forever! Elrohir thought, aggravated with the thought that he could do nothing to help Alenor. Sighing in frustration he stood up, casting a last despairing glance at the oak door before departing, knowing that his best option was to find his Adar and ask him the question that was nagging at him.

As he meandered down the welcoming halls filled with sunshine Elrohir cast his mind back to the night he had stumbled across the young mortal girl.

It had been a frosty night, the kind of night you get when October is passing onto November, when Elladan and him had discovered the child. Drawn by the sounds of a terrified child's sobs and cries of hunger, neither had wasted time in searching for the distressed sounds. Yet, neither was prepared to be confronted with the sight of a young girl, caged in the arms of her deceased mother. The silvery wisps of moonlight revealed a corpse that was beginning to rot as the pair lay together in the roots of a great tree:

Elrohir staggered away from the sight, clutching a hand over his nose and mouth, trying to dispel the gagging smell of decaying flesh. The young girl was alive, shivering with cold and fright. From the glaze in her eyes, both could tell she was dangerously ill.

Elrohir's eyes drifted to Elladan's and found his own look horror mirrored in his brother's own eyes. "Gwador!" he gasped, his voice expressing the grief raging through him at the sight. The human child did not look up, unaware of the presence of the Elves. "We cannot leave the child here."

"Look at her gwador, she is sick, terribly sick. She may not survive even if we take her into our care," Elladan responded shaking his head in denial, but his eyes strayed to the child, the instinct hammered into him by his father, tempted him to at least try and save the girl's innocent life. "Besides out intent..."

"...Was to search out the Orcs and kill them." Elroihr finished the lame sentence, his eyes flashing. "But that is hardly as important as the fate of this young child. We have to at least give her the chance to live a life." Before Elladan could agree, knowing that he would continue to deny helping the child, Elrohir stepped toward the girl and purposefully cracked a twin under his heel.

At the noise the girl's head lifted slowly, tears lingered in her feverish eyes. "Are Saviors? Mommy said they would come to save me." her voice quivered as she spoke and her eyes searched for the rescuers who she could not see because the clouds had drifted over the moon again.

"I am a Savior," Elrohir responded softly, crouching down in front of her, so as not to frighten her further. She didn't flinch from him, but looked at him, tears creeping down her cheeks. Cooing softly he wrested the dead woman's arms away from her daughter, flinching himself was his fingers brushed against the girl's fevered skin. She did not seem to realize that she was in peril. It was when Elrohir was about to pick her up, that she spoke again

"Mommy's not waking up. She won't listen to me." The child looked pleadingly into his eyes. "Can you wake her up?

A lump of tears formed in Elrohir's throat as he looked down into the innocent brown eyes. He was about to force out an answer, though he was unsure of how to explain that her mother was dead, when Elladan stepped up next to him, stepping slowly so as not to startle her.

"Tinúviel," he murmured. "Do you know who she is?"

The girl nodded, although a little slowly. "Mommy told me."

Elladan crouched down next to his brother, eyes taking pains not to notice the corpse. "Would you like to be an Elven princess?"

The girl nodded, curling a tiny hand into a fist and bringing it to her mouth.

"Very well then my little Tinúviel," Elladan replied, feigned cheerfulness coating his voice. Reaching out he scooped the fevered girl into his arms. "Let's go back to your grand palace where there's a nice big bed waiting for you and a bath."

The girl giggled, snuggling against Elladan, reassured by his calm voice. As Elladan was carrying her away, she lifted her head, and her eyes found her mother's body. "Can you wake Mommy up?"

Elladan's eyes latched onto Elrohir's over the girl's head. "My brother will wake her up."

When the girl's eyes swept over him, Elrohir smiled, nodding, understanding his brother's tactic. Later they would come back to bury the woman in the arms of the tree and when she was feeling better they would tell Tinúviel the truth.

As they were walking away, Tinúviel murmured into Elladan's shirt. "I don't feel good."

"Elrohir! I don't want a dent in my desk."

Elrohir's head jerked up sharply and he blinked in surprise, realizing he had entered the study without realizing it. "Sorry Adar," he apologized, grinning meekly. "I guess my mind wandered for a minute."

"I could tell. What was it that you were thinking about?" Elrond asked, smiling kindly, pushing a stack of papers out the way so he could better see his son.

"Tinúviel," Elrohir answered softly.

"She was not faring well when I told her the news. Is she any better now?" Elrond asked in concern, his brows drawing down into a narrowed V. He had heard the worried undertone of his son's voice.

"She's not doing any better," Elrohir reported and flinging himself into the nearest armchair he swung his legs over the arm rests, ignoring Elrond's pointed and disproving frown. "What part of the tale did you leave out?"

"The part about why her mother was killed in the first place."

Elrohir nodded his agreement to his father's judgment. "When exactly do you plan on telling her that part of the tale?"

"When she's ready to handle it Elrohir." Elrond answered. A strong breath of wind blew in through the window, threatening to destroy the neatly stacked reports. Elrond chose to ignore it.

"How will you know when she's ready?" Elrohir asked, gauging his father's reaction. "Right now Alenor's pretty distressed and when you drop the hint there's more she'll...she'll...well there will be no Middle-Earth!"

Elrond glanced back at his dark-haired son, smiling faintly at the description. "Alenor's a smart girl, she'll figure it out for herself that I haven't told her everything and when she is willing she will come to me for the rest."

"That could take a hundred years father!" Elrohir protested, swinging his legs around so he could sit properly in his chair. His eyes had widened in his surprise and distress. "You know how pig-headed she can be!"

"That's exactly why I'm going to need a lever to make her want to ask me faster" Elrond replied slowly. He lowered his eyebrows, and regarded his son with a meaningful and hard to miss expression

"Eru, Iluvatar," Elrohir groaned, knowing exactly what the stare meant.